Lost Love
by Redejeka
Summary: Sometimes, loving a person who doesn't love you back can get really tiring.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! this is just a reaaaally short story that has a total of 3-4 chapters only. Most of the chapters are already completed, so no worries about the updates.

So, I hope you all enjoy this. :D

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She loosely holds the sheet that serves to cover her body, as she makes to stand by the window. Her breath is still labored from her previous activities, and her skin is still hot to the touch. Looking outside, she observes the crowd of people who are busy with whatever they are doing. Although it is nearing dusk, there are still vendors who are hustling to sell all of their products.

Pressing her forehead on the window pane, she closes her eyes as she welcomes the cold touch of the glass; the heat from her skin slowly seeping away. A pair of strong hands encircles her waist, making her smile and melt at the embrace. She leans towards person; being so close to him has allowed her to get a sniff of his cologne, mixed with sweat.

"Come back to bed, my love" the man whispers in her ear, making her shiver in delight.

Turning around to face him, she places her arms around his neck and leans in to give him a long kiss.

"You know I can't. I must go." She says, once they have separated.

She chuckles as she sees his pouting face- his reaction when he doesn't get his ways. Patting him on the cheek, she untangles herself from his hug and starts to retrieve her clothes. "Don't sulk, love, it doesn't suit you."

After putting all of her clothes on, she makes her way to the door. Before she goes out, she casts one last look at her lover, whose eyes are filled with sadness although his face remains expressionless. With that, she steps out of the room without saying goodbye.  
Besides, they will see each other soon.

* * *

She is just in time for dinner when she arrives home. Upon opening the door to her house, the smell of food instantly hits her. She goes directly to the kitchen, knowing that her son will be there, cooking.

"Toby, dear, the food smells delicious." She says in greeting when she sees his son stirring what seems to be soup, which he is preparing.

The poor boy jumps in surprise at her unexpected presence. She chuckles and taps him at the back, looking over the casserole.

"Is it almost ready?" She asks, eyeing the food hungrily.

"Yes, mum!" Toby chirpily replies. "Just a few more minutes."

Ruffling his hair, which he always hates when she does, she exits the kitchen. "I'll be in the parlor."

She has done some serious walking a while ago, and so she shall rest her feet first, while waiting for dinner. Plopping down on the loveseat, she props her feet up on the foot stool. Thinking that she will have a moment peace, she closes her eyes, trying to relive what has happened just a while ago.

Her daydreaming has been cut off when she hears the voice of her husband. She quickly sits upright, looking for him.

"Where have you been?" He asks. His expression may be stoic, but she knows him too well to guess that under his monotone voice lays a boiling anger.

She looks up to him, forcing a smile to her face to hide her nervousness. It's a scary to think that he may know of the things she has done previously. "I went out with a friend, dear."

She hopes that he will not ask any further questions, because she knows that if he does so, the conversation will just turn into an argument. This has happened before, she already has an inkling on where this will lead.

"Don't lie to me, Eleanor." There it goes the use of her name and not her pet name. He only does ever call her this when he is angry or furious at her.

She tries to stay calm and collected, but it is hard to do so when you know that you've really done something unacceptable. Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms to her chest to hide their shakiness. "Don't be silly. I'm not lying."

It always makes her nervous when he inquires about her tryst. She knows that she is playing a dangerous game with seeing another man, and it is just a matter of time before her husband finds out. But as far as she knows, she has been careful, making sure that her husband has plenty of customers to attend to before leaving, to keep him busy while she's gone.

He places his hand on both of the armrest of the seat, and leans so close to her that she can feel his hot breathe on her face. Ever so slowly, he says. "I will ask you again, Eleanor. This time, I will not tolerate you, lying to me. Where. Have. You. Been?"

She cannot look him in the eyes, for she knows that he will see through her lies. He can read her like a book. So, averting her gaze to the suddenly interesting floorboards, she repeats what she has answered him a while ago. "I went out with a friend."

She is not looking at him, but she can feel the intensity of his gaze boring through her skull. His breathing is coming out fast, like a kettle that's waiting to reach its boiling point. His silence speaks of many words. She'd rather choose that he shouts at her, than this. At least when he is screaming at her, she knows what he is thinking. But when he is like this, she is left having to worry what is running in his mind.

He pulls away from her, standing with his back to her. She lets out her breathe that she just realized she has been holding. Thinking that he has accepted her answer, she also stands up to go check on Toby. She does not want to be in the same room with him, lest he starts to ask her again.

Before she reaches the door, she stops as she hears what her husband has said next. Her blood runs cold as dread washes over her. She cannot move, nor can she even open her mouth to speak.

"I followed you. I know what you did."

She has been caught.

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Uhm.. so... tell me what you think guys. Just push the review button. XD

Reviews are L.O.V.E. :))


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! so here are some series of flashbacks... just so you know what's up with Mrs. Lovett's marriage. I hope this chapter would give you a clear idea on who's who. :D

Thanks for the reviews! 3

Enjoy!

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_"Good Morning, love! Here's your breakfast!" She announced cheerily, placing the tray of food, on top of the wooden chest, on the corner of the room._

_She found her husband lounging at the barber chair, holding his well-loved razor on one hand, and a photograph on the other. Upon witnessing this display, her blood immediately boiled in rage. She lost all sense of rationality and didn't think of what the consequences of her actions would be, she marched up to him. She grabbed the photograph from his hand and flung it to the ground, shattering the frame._

_"She's not your wife anymore! I am! When will you start accepting that?" She shouted at him. River of tears started flowing down her eyes, and she angrily wiped them away. Showing signs of weakness in front of him was one of the things she hated most._

_Even after all her shouting, her husband remained unmoving; his eyes were casted downwards to where the broken picture was. Her heart felt like it was torn to shreds. She didn't know why he still could not forget about his former wife, when here she was, doing everything for him. Was this the price she had to pay for being in love?_

_When it was apparent that she would not be getting any answer from him, she chose to just walk out of his shop. But before she was completely out of earshot from him, she heard him say:_

_"Never."_

* * *

_He kissed her passionately as he skillfully untied the laces of her corset. Once he was able to get rid of the clothing, his thumb immediately found its way towards her swollen nipple, running circles over it. A moan escaped her lips as he dipped down and assaulted her neck._

_This is it, the first time that they were truly being united as a married couple. Although they did this a million times before, tonight was different. Tonight, they were husband and wife. She could not ask for more, her dreams now came true._

_She tugged the belt of his trousers, and freed his manhood from the constraints of his underpants. Her lust elevated more when she heard him growled as she stroked him lightly. She pushed him to his back, taking him by surprise, but he did not also protest. She settled between his legs, devouring him with hunger._

_Today was really perfect. Although her husband was slightly uncooperative at the Church, taking too long to say 'I do', everything still turned out well. She was just glad that only Toby witnessed her husband's obvious reluctance._

_When she sensed that he was nearing his climax, she stopped what she was doing, earning her a protest. But she paid him no mind, and just smirked at him. Giving him a wink, she lifted herself up, straddled his waist, and ever so slowly, lowered herself in him; their body instantly rocked in unison._

_After a while, he flipped her over, grabbing a fistful of her hair as he thrust into her. His movements were not gentle nor were they soft; they were rough and hard, but she gladly took him all in, for this was how she wanted it. Soon after, she felt her climax already building up, and she could tell that he was also nearing his end for his breath was getting labored._

_As they both reached their peak, she screamed his name, and he screamed Lucy's._

* * *

_She watched him nervously while they lounge at her parlour. He was drinking gin, while she chose a more subtle drink, tea. They were sitting next to each other, one of those rare moments where they sit together in silence._

_She was trying to discern what mood he was in, hoping that he was not in a brooding mood before she made her announcement to him. She was really scared, for she did not know of how he would receive the news. It was a good thing, though, that he was consuming alcohol, for it somehow had a relaxing effect on him._

_Mustering all her courage to speak up, she finally blurted out. "I'm pregnant."_

_There was a long awkward pause after that. The atmosphere became so thick with intensity that you could cut it with a knife. Her husband had stopped midway from drinking his gin, and was now just staring at her- expressionless. Panic started to set in, she did not know what to do. What if he got mad at her? Would he like their child? Why wouldn't he say anything?_

_She was broken from her musings when he suddenly spoke. "Who's the father?"_

_A slap on the face would have been the best response, but it was not the best thing to do at this moment. She needed him to be calm, and doing that would only anger him. "Why it's you, of course! Who else would be the father of this child?"_

_His demeanor suddenly changed; he looked at her with pure hatred and disgust that she felt so small. She did not know what she did to deserve such loathing. It's not like she was the only one at fault that she got pregnant; it took two people to create a child._

_"Get rid of it." Was his only response before he got up from his seat and retreated to his shop._

_She did not really have to do that, for after 3 months, she would miscarry._

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So, what do you guys think? :)

Reviews are L.O.V.E. :)))


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Thank you for reviewing last chapter. :D

So, this is the continuation of the first chapter. Enjoy!

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She has not noticed him approach, so, before she can react; two strong hands are already around her throat, blocking her airway. He has moved so fast and silent, like an animal that's hunting its prey. But, as any prey does when trapped, she thrashes violently and tries to pry his hands away, only to give up for her attempts are fruitless; he is much stronger than her.

"Sweeney..." She rasps, looking at him pleadingly as she starts to feel dizzy.

Maybe she can still get through him, that he has not been completely blinded by rage, to at least listen to her explain herself. But what will she say? What can she possibly tell him that will justify her unfaithfulness? Even if she lies and makes up a scenario on why she is seeing that other man, she knows that her husband is not stupid enough to believe her.

"Sweeney-"

His eyes are an endless void of darkness that's piercing through her soul, scrutinizing her. She wants to look away, to avoid the judgment in them, but she finds that she cannot do so. It's hard not to get mesmerized in them, because for once, she can see the passion in his eyes- which she has always longed for- directed to her.

"Love-"

It seems like fate has once again been toying with her. Isn't it funny that she's going to die by the hands of the man that she loves? And yes, she still loves him, after all the hell he has put her through, after all of her infidelities and even now that he's trying to kill her.

"Please, love, let go." She pleads once more, hoping that he is still not too lost in his madness, for her to get through him.

Thank the heavens above! Just when she is about to lose her consciousness, he lets go of her, turning his back to her. Immediately, she takes big gulps of air, drinking it in like water. Her hands start to massage her throat, trying to alleviate the pain he has inflicted.

Does she run now to her room and lock herself in, lest he tries to hurt her again? But what good will it does? Eventually, she will have to come out and face him again. Maybe she should ask for help outside and get him arrested? But can she really do that to him? No, she cannot let him be thrown to jail for the second time; he has been through enough in Botany Bay.

She'll just stay and face this. She needs to fix this problem she has created.

"Why?" He asks, allowing her to break from her musings.

How can she explain to him that it's because of him that she has done this? That his complete lack of love for her, has pushed her to seek it from another man. Can he really blame her? All she wants is for him to give her the attention the she deserves, for her love to be reciprocated even if it's only a scrap that he can offer, and for him to at least give her some respect.

"I- i don't know." And it's true. She has entirely devoted herself to him, given him everything he needs and everything he wants, but she does not understand what has possessed her to do this to him.

He suddenly whirls around to face her; she winces as she sees his furious gaze. Putting on a sinister grin, he takes a menacing step towards her, and in return, she takes a step back. She gasps when she feels her back hits the wall, knowing that escape is now impossible for her. She should have run away when she can a while ago. Why must she be so weak when it comes to him? Instead of thinking for herself, even in the time of her death, she still thinks of his well-being first before her.

Love is ignorance.

She can hear her own heartbeat, drumming fast against her chest as he leans closely against her, their noses touching. She does not know of what she is nervous about: the things he can-will- do to her or their proximity.

He pins her in her place as his hand once again finds its way into her neck; expecting to feel pain, she closes her eyes and braces herself for the worse, but suddenly opens them again when she realizes that rather than throttling her to death, he's caressing her.

She has learned to handle her husband's constant mood changes over the past three years that they have been together, but to say that she is unprepared for this swift shift is an understatement. She does not have any idea on how she will react, even now as he is fumbling with her skirt, trying to fight with its many layers. Does she respond and return the favour, or does she stand still, just in case he decides to go back into killing her.

"So wet." He murmurs, burying his face on her chest upon getting in contact with her core.

A moan involuntarily escapes her lips as he inserts a finger inside her. Her knees become weak and standing suddenly becomes such a hard task. She throws her arms around him, forgetting what he has just done; for she cannot support herself any longer as he slowly and agonizingly thrusts inside her.

His other hand starts to untie the laces of her dress, doing so with ease. Withdrawing from her, she sends him a glare; he motions for her to shrug off her clothing. Her scowl turns into a sultry smile, as she obligingly does what he has asked. Standing naked before him, he puts his hand at the small of her back and guides her to the sofa.

Once she has taken her seat, she yanks her husband close to her by tugging at his waistband. Without hesitation, she expertly starts to unfasten his belt. But, before she successfully opens up his pants, he stops her, getting hold of her hands. She looks up at him questioningly, afraid that she may have ruined the moment. Relief washes over her as she sees him leaning down, getting close to her. It seems like he is going to say something.

She can feel his hot breathe in her ears while she waits in anticipation to hear what's going to come out of his mouth.

"How much for a fuck?"

Her body, once so relaxed, goes rigid. It's like a bucket of ice water has been poured over her. Everything makes sense now. He thinks that she is whoring herself. She wants to cry, to shout, to get angry at him as he stands there, staring her down with a smirk on his face.

Tears are welling up in her eyes, threatening to escape. No matter how ironic it may be, she feels betrayed. Whore. That's how low he thinks of her. She puts her arms around herself to cover what she can. She feels so cheap, so small, she feels used. How come she has not seen that this is all a ruse? She feels sorry for herself. She's pathetic.

She does not really know on whom to get angrier: herself or him.

She flinches when he cups her face, struggling between moving away from him and leaning into his touch. She cannot deny the fact that she aches for him, especially now that he is so gentle, so careful, yet so deceitful. Why must he play with her like this?

His hand creeps up until he is touching her head; without warning, he grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her head back. "How much do they pay you?"

The resounding sound as her hands connects with her husband's face, fills the room. It feels so satisfyingly good to be able to let your anger out. She would have laughed at her husband's very shocked face if only her life doesn't depend on it. Taking advantage of his astonishment, she removes his grip away from his hair, and stands up after.

"I. Am Not. A. Whore." She answers, dabbing a finger on his chest with every words that she has uttered. She has been so poor when her Albert has died, and can barely manage to fend for herself. Nonetheless, she has chosen to starve than to sell her body. Hence, to be called a whore is a great insult for her.

"Oh! But you are_, my dear_. So eager to fuck me after fucking that man. Now what do you call that? _Whore_." He laughs; a booming laughter that is meant to mock her, to spite her and it's working.

And so she shall reveal the truth. She cannot anymore take accusations. "That man is my lover! He makes me happy and he satisfies me, more than you ever could!"

Just like the repeat of what has happened a while ago, he approaches her, but this time, she refuses to back down. Glaring at him, she crosses her arms over her chest, realizing that she is still naked. She makes a mental note to herself to retrieve her clothes later.

"What did you say?" He hisses; his hand dangerously flies towards his holster where he keeps his razor.

"You heard me." She answers. Although she knows how wrong it is for her to be entertaining such thoughts, she cannot help but feel a little happy at the notion that he might be jealous. Just for once, she wants to see that he actually cares.

He grabs his razor and opens it, wasting no time to point it at her throat. Does being angry at her to the point of killing her means that he cares for she has found a replacement for him, or does it means that he gives no damn of her being dead?

The razor slightly punctures her skin, leaving a thin red line as he presses it against her. "Well, _my love_, you're gonna have to choose: Me or him."

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And who shall she choose?

Reviews are L.O.V.E. :))


	4. Chapter 4

This took quite long, but hey, here's the conclusion of the story! :D

Thank you all for taking the time to read this short story. :)

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She is curled up against him in bed, humming softly as she draw circles onto his chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath that he takes. The comfort that she feels when she is with him plus the uncommonly warm weather of London tonight, make her eyes droop heavy with sleep while he plays with her hair.

"I love you," she whispers to his neck; goose bumps appear on his skin and he tugs a wisp of her hair- his only response. He may have not said anything, but his senses tell her of what he can't. Besides, he's not a fan of saying it out loud for it loses its value, according to him; although she believes otherwise.

Granting all this, she delights in pestering him to get him to say it back. Sometimes, he gets too irritated which leads into an argument, but most of the time, he relents.

She looks up at him, a frown on her face and a pout on her lips. "Aren't you going to say it back?"

He glares daggers at her, trying to intimidate her, although they both know that it will not work. She just smiles at him; a saccharine smile which she knows will annoy him even more. "Come on, love."

"No," is his cold reply. She rolls her eyes, pinching his forearm playfully. She nudges him with her foot, wagging her eyebrows up and down, encouraging him.

When her antics fail to get what he wants from him, she entangles herself from him, turning her back and wrapping the woolen blanket around her. "Good night."

She pretends to be sleeping, waiting if he will console her or not. When a few minutes of silence has passed, and he still hasn't done anything nor has moved from his position, she lets out an exasperated sigh. She, again, moves away from him as far as possible, to the point that she's already on the edge of the bed.

"You'll fall, Eleanor. Go back here," he says with his usual stern voice. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close to him, but she refuses to budge, batting his hand away and saying nothing.

She hears him cluck his tongue; he tries again to draw her close to him and she acquiesce, her back still to him, remaining silent, letting him know she's still angry. He buries his face in her hair, his arms tightening around her in an embrace. But her body stays rigid; she refuses to melt into the hug. This has been one of his ways to make up to her, by showering her with affections. Usually, she will be swooning now, but she pretty much like to play the game longer.

Knowing his tactic is not working, she hears him sigh, then comes next his muffled response. "I love you, too, Mrs. Wright."

Biting her lips to keep her smile from spreading, she turns around, wounding herself back to him. She gives him a quick peck on the lips before burrowing her head under his chin.

How wonderful it is, to be loved back by the person you love?

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So, how was it? Ha! I know you all got mixed feelings on whom Nellie should really be with, so care to shre your thoughts 'bout this chapter?

Reviews are L.O.V.E. :))


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